A Secret Life
by 39addict101
Summary: "I love you too much to kill you." -The words ran through Amy's mind, over and over, again and again. Then she heard Him. Warning: Dark-ish
1. Chapter 1

Amy awoke on a cold, dark night. An owl screeched outside her bedroom window. Cautiously, Amy peered out. It was time.

She slipped into her black skinny jeans and pulled on a black hoody. She quietly opened the window and slipped out into the darkness.

A man meets her out by the big oak tree. "You ready?" He growls. His voice is low, husky.

Amy swallowed hard, and nodded "I'm ready."

He took her by the hands and led her into the woods. "Your assignment." He saif, pointing to a box. "Oh, and by the way, if anyone asks who brought you here, tell them his name was Mr. Zulu."

Amy nodded, hoping the fear didn't show on her face. She opened the box and pulls out a sheet. On it, are her instructions.

 _Dear Amy Cahill,_

 _Here are the instructions requested._

 _In a fortnight, two robbers will break in and "kill" the canary. The bait is set. Please hurry. We need your help._

 _The Cat_

In the box was a dagger, and shotgun. Amy swallowed, realization dawning on her.

There was another note inside the box, written in spidery, flowery handwriting.

 _Dearest Amy,_

 _I forgot._

 _Robber #1._

 _Robber #2. Ian Kabra_

 _Please don't forgot, if above doesn't have a note to match this, with one small detail different, then don't trust him. Do the deed yourself if you have too._

 _The Cat_

The owl screeched again, causing Amy to jump. She whirled around, her heart thumping in her chest.

Right then, she felt a hand clap over her mouth and an arm wrap around her waist.

"Hello, love." A husky voice growled in her ear.

Amy felt her heart begin to beat faster. "Ian." She hissed. "Release me right now."

"No, love." Ian said, his voice still rough.

"Why?" She said. "We have work to do."

"Because, love," Ian said, "I enjoy your back pressed against my chest."

Amy ignored Ian, twisted around rapidly, and brought her knee up to between Ian's legs. He fell over, gasping for breath.

"Why'd you do that, love?" He asked, the _love_ came out strained.

Amy rolled her eyes, knowing Ian couldn't see her clearly in the dark. "Because, love," She mimicked his throaty voice, "I enjoy it."

Ian got up slowly, and said, "We need to leave. I was followed. I just heard them leave."

Amy gasped. "So they just thought you coming out here to meet your lover?" She sighed. "Wow, thanks for telling me. I would have been a bit more...loving."

Ian shook his head. "It wouldn't have mattered. They left as soon as I said, 'I enjoy your back pressed against my chest.' They thought that was it, two lovers meeting in the woods, so they left."

Amy cocked her head. "You heard them leave?"

Ian smacked his forehead. "I'm a Lucian, remember? Of course I heard them leave!"

"Sheesh," Amy said, "Sorry." She pulled the now wrinkled note of her hoody pocket. "Let me see yours." She said, her voice dropping to below a whisper.

Ian pulled his out. His was identical to hers...except for one detail. Her name was written as robber number two instead of his.

Amy nodded. "Good. Let's go."

The couple slipped off into the night, the darkness seeming to swallow them up.

-The Hunt-

Amy glanced back at Ian, who was slinking along behind her. They had gotten in his car, shut off the headlights, and drove to their destination.

His assignment was undoubtedly different than hers. They always were. Their assignments were always similar, yet different.

Now they walking up a long driveway to a creepy, abandoned mansion. Ian's large, dark figure seemed almost to glide behind her small one.

They reached the house. It's windows and doors were locked tight, in case of invaders.

Amy sighed. "Now what?" She whispered.

Amy listened for Ian's response, but he didn't say anything, just kept walking towards the back of the estate. Tree branches, long overgrown, seemed to reach out with gnarled hands to grab them.

Amy shied away from the rough roots that stuck up out of the ground. She looked at Ian, who was walking ahead of her, his gait steady despite the difficult terrain.

 _He's been here before._

Ian continued walking, and then he turned back to Amy. "Hurry." He said. "It's almost time."

 _Time for what?_ Amy wondered.

Ian reached the back of the house, then began his running his fingers along the wall.

"What are you doing?" Amy hissed, growing suspicious.

"This." Ian said, his fingers stopping at a specific spot on the wall. He pushed, grabbed Amy's arm, and clamped a hand over her mouth as the ground beneath them dropped.

Amy fought the scream that welled up from the depths of her soul. They were plummeting, falling, tearing through empty space. Then it stopped.

Her chest heaved, and she stepped closer to Ian. They were in a dark passage, not recently used. Cobwebs stretched from one narrow wall to the other.

Ian stepped forward, brushing them aside. He motioned for Amy to follow, and then he was gone, swiftly walking through the eerie black tunnel.

 _Where is he taking me?_

Amy walked forward, not noticing that Ian had stopped. She bumped into him, and then fell over, her body striking the dirt floor hard.

"Oof!" She moaned.

Ian held a finger up to his mouth in a _Shh!_ gesture. Amy nodded, and got unsteadily to her feet.

For a few long minutes, neither of them said anything. Then Ian turned to Amy. "The Cat is waiting. He will strike at any moment, any time. This was not part of our plan. I was to murder you."

Amy gasped, and stepped away.

Ian continued, his face obscured with dark shadows. "Amy." He said, reaching out and touching her face. "The Cat wants you dead. You have failed him."

Amy stifled a sob. "What did I do?"

Ian leaned close to her. "Everything." He said.

Then he turned. "I too, will be a disappointment, but I couldn't kill _you._ " He paused, letting the words sink in.

"Why?" Amy asked. "You've killed so many others. Seen so much death. What would one more be?"

Ian paused, opened his mouth and then shut it again. "I don't know." He finally said. "Its just, I...I...I love you too much to kill you."

 _I love you too much to kill you._ The words tore through Amy's mind again and again. _I love you too much to kill you. I love you too much to kill you._ She brushed it aside, like one brushes aside a fly.

"Ian." She spoke his name softly, putting all the emotion she couldn't express into that name. "What now?"

Ian looked at her, with pity in his eyes. "I will be killed for disobeying orders." He said.

"No!" Amy said. "No! Just kill me. I am a disappointment." She hung her head.

"That's right you are." A voice purred behind her. Amy whirled around, and she heard Ian's stifled scream from next to her.

The man stepped up to her, his face covered with shadow. He ran a hand down her cheek. "You were such a pretty girl." He said. Then he whirled to his men. "Kill her, since this idiot couldn't."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey. I realized I didn't an authors note on the first chapter. (Did I?)**

 **So, I'm just going to give you a head's up. This is a dark story. I don't even know how it happened, it just did.**

 **I got the idea for this from a book called The Long Game by Jennifer Lynn Barnes. I don't know if its published yet...so...I don't know if you can find it.**

 **Basically, its about this girl, who lives near Washington D.C. She gets involved with terrorists and...other stuff.**

 **It's really good, and after I read it last week I just felt inspired.**

 **Anyhoo, thanks to those of you who reviewed last time.**

 **Zen: I wish!**

* * *

Ian protested, struggling against the heavy hands that held him, feeling himself dragged away from the girl he loved.

He heard the shot ring out behind him, and he stiffened. "I hate you!" He called, his voice loud in the quiet night.

The Cat came up to him.

The Cat truly was a fitting name for such a cruel man. His black eyes always glittered with a cold fire, a fire that had been stoked through years of killings.

He snuck up on his targets, like a cat sneaks up on a mouse, and then he delivered the lethal blow. His targets never knew what hit them.

Tonight was an exception. He wanted Amy to fear, to cry out, to beg for mercy. Which she had done, but Ian had already been dragged away, and all he could hear was her soft voice, a tear in it, as she had cried.

He would have done anything to take her place.

"So." The Cat said. "You know your punishment. However, tonight is an odd night. Tonight, I will show mercy, when I have none. You are not to be executed, as you should be. You are to break into Amy Cahill's home, and bring me anything that may show me what she was doing." The Cat paused, letting his words sink in. "If you do not, you will meet a cruel fate. Death by torture."

Another shot rang out. "What the-" The Cat screamed, running over.

Ian heard him yell, "What do you mean she's gone?"

Relief washed through him, and he felt his knees knock together as he crumpled to the ground.

He could hear the light steps of The Cat as he came up behind him, treading softly on the firm ground. "Change of plans." The Cat purred. "You are to find me Amy Cahill, and bring her to me, dead or alive."

Ian didn't say anything.

"Now go!" The Cat said, "Your quest begins now!"

Ian stood up, and turned to The Cat. "What if I don't want to?" He spit, all the hatred he'd kept bottled up inside of him for all these years spewing forth.

The Cat's lips parted, revealing perfect white teeth. "I suggest," He said, slowly, the way one talks to a toddler. "That you listen to me." His voice hardened, and his lips straightened. "The results won't be pretty."

Ian turned, and felt a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it, and turned around, resentment written on his shadowed face. "What?"

"I fear," The Cat said, one eyebrow twitching. "That you don't have much time. Either you find her, and bring her to me, or I'll-"

Ian knew what The Cat was going to say. He turned and ran through the dark night.

His heart beat loudly in his chest. "Amy!" He called. "Amy!"

No answer. _Of course, you fool!_ He thought. _You just confessed to her that you were supposed to kill her. She's not going to fall for anything._

He looked around him, at the dark silhouettes of the mighty oaks, the crooked pines, and he shuddered.

"Amy." He whispered. "I'd never kill you. Not unless..." He paused, biting his lip.

"I love you." He whispered, into the dark, bleak night.

Then he turned, and walked away. He would find this girl, this beauty, the girl he loved, and he would save her from...from her father.

The world had never seemed so dark and dreary as it did in that moment.

The moon was behind a cloud, and the faint starlight seemed to give no light.

Ian's feet thudded on the cold, dry ground, and he felt tears coming to his eyes.

He stopped, and fell down, his breaths coming in fast gasps.

"I can't do this." He muttered. "It's impossible."

His thoughts turned to The Cat's last words. "Or I'll-"

 _He was going to say, "Or I'll sell your secrets to the world."_

His mind churned. His past was not something Ian was proud of.

Rather, it was something that made him whimper, cry, and moan in anguish late into the night. It was something that haunted him, that wouldn't go away, like the itch on a mosquito bite. No matter how much you scratch it, its still there, and it only gets worse.

He stared up at the dark sky, his face lifted to the faint starlight. The stars seemed very few, like the bright spots in his life. They twinkled, winking at him, as if to remind him how worthless he really was.

The bright spots. They were few. And one of them had been working with Amy. Sure, their tasks consisted of killing people, and acts of terrorism. But when he was with her, he didn't care about the blood on his hands, because there was blood on her hands too, and they were in this together.

Ian had murdered, stabbed, raped, assaulted many a girl in his lifetime, but Amy had done things that were just as bad. She didn't care if he came to her, smelling of alcohol, with the blood on his hands from a virgin he'd just raped and then murdered.

Amy accepted him for what he was, because she too, had been recruited by The Cat, who was the head of Mawt to al Hayy. Death to the living.

 **Review please.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **See what I mean, it got kind of dark...to say the least. Anyway, drop me a review and I'll love you forever.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I decided to finally update this. Sorry it took so long.**

 **Thanks for all of those who reviewed, and I'm sorry I freaked a couple of you guys out.**

 **Let me tell you the reason I had Ian...do those things...was because I needed him to be dark for this, and I figured that would most likely cause a feeling of resentment and disgust, which is what I need for this dark story.**

 **Enjoy guys!**

* * *

Black.

That was Amy Cahill saw. She heard a shot, and felt a stinging sensation. Then she heard and felt nothing, saw only black.

When she awoke, she didn't know how long she'd been out of it.

It was night and the screech owl was still calling out its mournful call.

Her shoulder throbbed with an indescribable pain. Reaching her left hand out, she crossed over her shaking body, and touched her right shoulder.

A burning, fire-like sensation tore through her, and she tore her hand away, sticky with blood.

That's when panic set in. "I'm shot." She whispered, feeling the adrenaline begin to run through her body. "I've been shot."

It all came flooding back to her, Ian's almost-betrayal, The Cat, and she shuddered. "He was going to kill me, but he didn't."

Amy knew Ian had done plenty of bad things, but so had she.

He had come to her, smelling of blood, and she had thought of her past, and forgiven him.

Ian was changing for the better, but Amy feared she was falling into a deep, black pit, which was impossible to climb out.

Another wave of pain rocked her body, and she leaned over and vomited.

"Ian." She moaned, the taste of vomit fresh in her mouth.

There was no answer, the wound in her shoulder still throbbed, and her stomach still churned. The night owl cried again, its high screech echoing across the dark, still valley.

Amy knew that The Cat was out there somewhere. He was looking for her, and he would find her. He always did, except for that one time. Ian had been there for her, when the blood was on her hands, and she was crying out her soul, screaming out in pain, wishing the world wouldn't be so cruel and heartless.

Other people lived happy lives, their smiles always on their faces. Smiles that Amy wanted to rub off, she wanted them to feel her pain, her sorrow, her hurt, she wanted them to cry out in desperation, in fear, and know that they were stuck, there was no way out, just like she did.

She knew she was selfish, she knew she shouldn't spread pain, but she didn't care. When she saw a child cry, if only for a few seconds, she would feel better, knowing that other people, if only for small reasons, like dropped ice cream, suffered too.

Amy's thoughts turned to all the times she'd given herself to Ian, completely. She'd lay in his arms, her head pressed against his chest, and she'd felt contentment. But when Ian had gone, and she was left in the sweaty bed, with Ian's last touch still lingering on her skin, she would cry, the pain awful, knowing that Ian had left, and that she was alone.

Gosh, she hated being alone. When she was alone, her past haunted her, and The Cat's words echoed in her ears. "You'll never be good enough. You'll never be good enough. Never good enough." Ian would find her, her arms wrapped around her torso, rocking, rocking, rocking in the pain that she would never show him.

He would pick her up, and whisper in her ear, "I'm sorry." Then he would gently kiss her, and she would feel her pain ebb away, if just for a few seconds. When Ian left, the pain rushed in.

The night owl screeched again, causing Amy to jump. She heard wings flapping, and the tiny screech of whatever unfortunate animal the owl had picked up. She felt like that animal, with pain in place of the owl. The pain would snatch her, and for a few fleeting moments she would have time to cry out, before it completely overwhelmed her.

She looked up at the warm, twinkling stars. Their light seemed only to be there for one purpose: To remind her how dark and cold her life was. The moon seemed to smile down at her, and she turned away from its welcome light.

"Ian." She said, wishing he was here, to hold her, and comfort her, without saying a word. There was, of course, no answer. No answer, except for that of the screech owl, who screamed its mournful call over the dark silent space.

Her thoughts turned to The Cat. She had messed up, by accidentally telling that stranger their plans. She had thought he was the agent that The Cat had sent, and she had made a mistake. A mistake that had almost, and probably would, cost her her life.

Ian's words echoed in her mind. "I love you too much to kill you."

She remembered Ian's look of confusion when The Cat had shown up.

After that, she only remembered a shot, a stinging sensation, and then black. She wondered how much time had passed, and she hoped that Ian didn't miss her. _He thinks I'm dead._ She thought. _I hope, I hope he lives a good life._

Then she felt a hand touch her shoulder. Someone whispered, "Come with me. Quickly."

Amy didn't ask who it was. She simply obeyed. She had always been taught, from the time she was a child, to obey quickly, and without fail. If she hadn't obeyed promptly, she was punished, usually with a severe whipping.

Now, her training kicked in, and she followed the footsteps of the person in front of her, whoever it was.

They walked through the black night, weaving in and out of trees, neither person saying a single word. Neither of them wanted to. Terrorists live a life of silence.

* * *

 **Thanks guys, for reading this. Please, please, please, please review.**

 **-39addict101**


	4. Chapter 4

**I am so, so, so, so, so sorry that it took me so long to update this. I think I might have one chapter left, but probably more like two.**

 **Thanks to Mademoiselle for being one of my faithful supporters.**

 **Also thanks to all of you who reviewed.**

 **And I do realize that this is a slightly dark story, so I was wondering, should the rating be changed?**

 **Let me know in a PM or review, whichever works for you.**

* * *

It was so cold. His breath steamed in the frosty air, and his hands shook. He struggled to keep his eyes open, knowing that if he shut them, they would open ever again. _Stupid American winters._ He thought, realizing that it was Spring.

He stared up at the moon, its cold light radiating down to the cold, cruel earth. The trees were dark monsters, waiting to snatch him, which he would gladly let them do. Amy was dead. He was...a murderer, rapist, terrorist. If someone had come to him know and offered to kill him, he would let them. And then he realized it would be so simple to get rid of himself. Just do what his body wanted: sleep. He shut his eyes, and surrendered to the deep blackness which he had come to love.

Just as he was about to drift off, a hand clamped down onto his shoulder, jarring him awake. "Come with me. Quickly." A deep voice said, and Ian obeyed. He stood, shoving his hands into his pockets, and followed the dark form off into the forest.

They twisted, following little paths that Ian would have never noticed in the dark. He supposed he probably should get to know little things like that, seeing as terrorists were silent people, lurking, biding their time. What better place to do it then in the depths of the woods?

They reached a giant pine, whose straight and orderly branches reached out, like arms, waiting to grab any offenders. The man ducked, and Ian squatted down, unsure. "Follow me." The man said, "Come on."

Ian bent, and followed the man into the giant tree.

Branches reached all around them, but Ian realized that some had been cleared, only on the inside, creating a sort of room. The man fumbled around for a few minutes, walking about, and then kicked at something that Ian couldn't see in the dark. Grunting his approval, the man opened a trap door that Ian cursed himself for not noticing.

The man motioned for Ian to follow, and began descending down into a deep, black, seemingly-bottomless pit. Ian put one foot down, and felt a ladder. Grabbing on to the side of the pit, he lowered himself until he was all the way on, and then he reached up and shut the door.

Dark. Black, thick, inky dark surrounded him, and he began to panic. He couldn't see his hand in front of his face. He moved it closer until he could feel it next to his nose, but he still saw nothing.

Panic gripped him, and he grabbed onto the ladder, hanging on for dear life. His hands shook when he released one to grab on to the next rung. His feet were like lead boulders, stiff, and unmoving.

When his feet finally touched solid ground, he breathed a sigh of relief, and then once more, panic set in. He couldn't see the man who had dragged him down here!

He spun around in a circle, his arms spread, feeling for the man. He whacked him on the forehead, and grimaced. "Oops." He muttered, "Sorry."

The man grunted, and grabbed Ian's hand, and then led him off in another direction. Walking in the dark, Ian couldn't see where he was placing his feet, and tripped and stumbled on the uneven ground.

The man stopped and waited for him, and then rushed off again at his ridiculous pace.

And then there was light, flooding out of a dirt room, which had never looked so inviting before. Ian let go of the man's hand, rubbed the dirty hand on his Armani suit pant leg, and then stepped into the room.

The dirt walls were crumbling, obviously old, and there was an old desk sitting in the smack middle of the room. A girl sat at the desk, looking strangely like, "Amy?" Ian gasped.

She looked up. "Ian!"

"You're alive!" Ian cried, and ran to her.

Never had there been a more joyous greeting. Friend greeted friend, and they wrapped each other in loving, comforting hugs. Both of them had tears streaming down their faces, but Amy's tearful face held a huge smile.

The man grunted something, and Ian turned and saw his face for the first time.

"Vikram?" He asked, causing Amy to gasp.

The man, or Vikram, spoke. "Yes, Ian, I am your father. And I'm here to help you." He motioned for Ian and Amy to pull up chairs behind the desk. He sat behind it, and then clearing his throat, said, "I can help you out of this terrorist mess."

Amy sighed. "No, you can't. Maybe you don't understand. My father, Arthur Trent, is The Cat, and he will hunt me down and find me, no matter what."

Ian nodded, and spoke. "Unless...we pretend to die."

Vikram nodded. "Yes. There is a plane that both of you will be on, that will crash."

Amy blinked. "I think I'm getting it. You want a supposed terrorist attack, except we aren't even on it."

Ian grinned. "They'll publish the passenger list, and they probably won't list who's not on it."

Vikram nodded again, grunting approval. "You'll show to the airport, so that they track you, and know that you're there. You'll miss your flight, but you won't say anything about. It will have to be planned very carefully, if it is going to work. If not, you are at the mercy of Death to the Living."

* * *

 **That's not a cliffie, right? :P**

 **Thanks guys, for reading.**

 **But one thing first...I'm up to 258 views...and only 14 reviews?**

 **That just doesn't make any sense, does it?**

 **I'm not updating this till I have 21 reviews. So...**

 **REVIEW!**

 **Until next time,**

 **-39addict101**


	5. Chapter 5

Airports were too crowded for Ian's taste. He hated the bustle of the people jostling each other as they ran to catch their flight. This was why he traveled via private jet. Always.

The white tile floor clicked beneath Amy's heels, and she looked uncomfortable in the suit she was wearing. Pretending to be a married business couple had not been her idea of fun. At all. Thankfully, she didn't know about Vikram's plan, if their escape worked.

Vikram and Ian had had a long talk the previous night, going over every possibility, and finalizing the plan. There were a lot of factors that Ian had not thought of, and he was glad Vikram was there, for once in his life.

Amy was running hand through her hair. He looked over at her and said sweetly, "Would you like some coffee, honey? You look tired." The words were vague, and odd on his thick tongue. Sweet nothings were not words he was used to saying.

Amy smiled, and took his hand. "Of course." She said, smiling up at him.

Ian smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes, and he knew it. He stalked off towards a coffee shop, and ordered two small lattes.

Handing one to her, he took a sip out of his, and relished the taste of the hot liquid sliding down his throat.

And then Amy shrieked, and dropped her coffee. All over her suit.

"Oh, honey!" She said. "I'm so sorry!" Ian nodded, however so slightly, and Amy caught it.

Then she was gone, whirling away to the bathroom, and Ian tossed his coffee in the trash, and made for their escape exit. The bathroom.

He changed into shorts, and pulled on a dark wig. Popping in some contacts, he changed his eyes to a dull brown. Tossing his Armani suit into the trash, he came out looking slightly like a young athlete who was incredibly exhausted.

He sat down outside one of the gates, holding a duffel that he'd picked up. He would leave it behind when he was finished. As soon as the gate he was sitting in announced its departure, Ian clapped a hand to his mouth, and made gagging noises. The young woman sitting next to him, who had, at first been sitting as close as possible, slid away, grabbed her bag, and hurried towards the door.

Ian bent over, and then stood up, and ran to the bathroom.

He'd done it. He stayed in the bathroom for a while, making retching noises.

And then, twenty minutes later, the plane took off, and Ian Kabra walked away, a dead man.

* * *

The reports were all over TV.

The plane had crashed, killing all of its passengers. The list was published the next day, and Amy Cahill and Ian Kabra were listed.

They were officially dead. The Cat would never know the difference.

But for Ian Kabra and Amy Cahill, the results of their time in terrorism would affect the rest of their lives.

Who can forget the countless human beings one has murdered?

Who can forget the countless times they've watched the blood drain from their victims' bodies?

Ian sighed as he looked at yet another report of the crash. He shut off the TV, and turned to Amy, who was sitting next to Ian, a horrified expression on her face.

"Ian." She said, her chin quavering. "I thought it was such a good idea at the time, but now, I'm not so sure. All those innocent people dead, just to kill us."

Ian shook his head. "I know. But, Vikram told me that it was targeted anyways. He said not to ask how he knew, but that the plane was doomed."

Amy sighed. "So, The Cat, I mean, my dad, will think that we didn't know and innocently got on the plane?"

Ian nodded. "Right. In his eyes, he killed two birds with one stone. Or, five hundred people, and two rebels with one bomb."

Placing a worn hand up to her eyes, Amy rubbed them. "But, Ian. How are we going to hide? We're former terrorists. We can't just disappear!"

Ian looked at Amy, who had buried her face in her hands. "I wish I was never born." She moaned.

Ian, looking at Amy, couldn't help but notice despair, anger and frustration in the way she held her body. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "No." He whispered. "Don't. Because if you weren't born, I wouldn't be alive right now. I'd have killed myself a long time ago."

Amy looked up at him. "I know...but...how are we going to do this, Ian? Even our names! I can't call myself Amy or you Ian."

Ian sighed. "We will have to call ourselves something. And..." He paused. "Vikram said we had to pose as a married couple."

Amy looked up at Ian, horrified. "What?" She said, astonishment creeping into her voice. "I'm ok with a little bit of...of... _fun_ once in a while, but...married? To you?" Amy set her jaw. "I am _not_ sleeping in the same bed as you. Ever."

Ian smirked. "Why? You've done it before."

Amy glared at him. "That's different!"

"How?"

"It just is!"

"Explain." Ian was cool, unwavering.

"I could have gotten up and left, and you wouldn't have cared. But now, now..."

Ian smiled. "I stumped you. It isn't different."

Amy frowned. "I still think it is."

* * *

The Cat frowned as he looked at his records. Something didn't add up. But he couldn't understand why. He had planned, thought, looked at every corner and every possibility.

And then, looking closer at the videos he had hacked, it clicked. Ian Kabra was walking out of the airport, very much alive, but dressed in a sporty, American outfit.

 _The little jerk._

* * *

 ** _Ahaha! You thought I was done, didn't you, until you read that last paragraph?_**

 ** _Sorry, I am VERY mean._**

 ** _And I must apologize for taking forever to update. And I feel like this story is going down the drain with each chapter. I must apologize for that. Like, seriously? I'm fucking this whole thing up._**

 ** _And also, as of last time, when I published this, I got two reviews. TWO!_**

 ** _I said I wasn't going to update until I got 21, but a guest review persuaded me too. (Guest, you know who you are, thank you for reviewing!)_**

 ** _A huge shoutout to MademoiselleEtincelle for reviewing...and faithfully!_**

 ** _*sends a virtual kiss to Mademoiselle*_**

 ** _Thank you guys, and please remember to review._**


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